


You're All I See

by The_Bentley



Series: Cold Open Fictions [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1960s, 2010s, Anal Sex, Aziraphale in Love (Good Omens), Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Holy Water, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pillow Talk, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Pre-Heist, Seduction, Sex, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, we're on our own side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-07 19:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21463690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: London 1967. A holy water obsession leads to hard decisions being made, capers being planned and favors being returned, even though some angels claim certain demons go too fast for them.  But Earth’s time is running short because 6000 years will be here soon.  Is it better to love your Enemy from a distance or enjoy a brief relationship with him before the Apocalypse happens?Explicit rating is for Chapters 2 and 3, and 4 is probably more on the Mature level.(I had '61 in there.  I don't know why I put that, but it's corrected now to the right year.  Sorry for any confusion.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Cold Open Fictions [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1406710
Comments: 39
Kudos: 156





	1. Demons are Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Crowley was putting himself in serious amounts of danger, which worried Aziraphale something terrible. Any number of things could go wrong which would result in even the smallest drop of holy water ending up on Crowley. This wasn’t discorporation. This was permanent death. He would simply cease to exist._

The shopkeeper who kept the adult store was, surprisingly, on good terms with his neighbour who ran a rare book bookshop and had the strangest of names, A.Z. Fell. Also, he was aware of Fell’s companion, the bloke with the black velvet coat who always wore sunglasses and seemed just a bit shady. It wasn’t a relationship he quite understood. In fact, nobody in the neighborhood quite could – were they just close friends or was there something more going on there?

So when there was talk in his shop among some of the seedier customers to grace his store concerning Fell’s mate, he naturally paid attention. Then he accosted the bookseller the next time he saw him out on the street.

“Fell!”

“Yes?” The blond-haired, frumpily-dressed man turned around. “Oh, Mr. Green. It’s been a while.”

“Word has it that your friend Crowley is planning something of a heist. Nobody knows details, but that’s the rumor.” Green said. “They say he’s been asking around for those with special skills.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s just rumors.” Aziraphale dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “But I will check it out. Thank you.”

“No problem. Talk to you later.” Green headed back to his own shop.

Meanwhile the angel stood there seething as he unlocked the bookshop then entered its comfortable interior. There was only one thing Crowley would be after, he knew. Over one hundred years later and the demon still couldn’t get holy water off his mind. He was going to get himself permanently killed.

The angel laid down on the counter the pastries he purchased. He no longer had an interest in eating them anymore. Sarcastically Aziraphale thanked Crowley for upsetting him so much he lost his appetite. If he was mortal, he’d swear that demon would be the death of him.

Feeling exasperated, he picked up the phone and dialed Crowley’s number, hoping he’d actually be home. 

“What?” said the voice on the other end of the line. He sounded a bit irritated.

“Hello, Crowley. It’s Aziraphale. I was wondering if you were free to do lunch today. It’s been quite a while.”

“No. Sorry. Very busy. I have assignments and all kinds of stuff. Maybe next week, ok? I’ll speak to you later. Gotta go.” 

And Crowley hung up on him.

That sure sounded like he was in the middle of planning some heist. There was nothing in the world Crowley coveted as much as holy water, so that had to be it. Aziraphale was almost one hundred percent sure it was.

Now what? Crowley was putting himself in serious amounts of danger, which worried Aziraphale something terrible. Any number of things could go wrong which would result in even the smallest drop of holy water ending up on Crowley. This wasn’t discorporation. This was permanent death. He would simply cease to exist.

Much to his own embarrassment, Aziraphale took to hanging around Green’s establishment, invisible of course, eavesdropping on the customers there. A certain Lance-Corporal Shadwell, who showed up once in a while to inquire about jobs and witches, oddly enough, seemed to have some information on Crowley’s doings.

He accosted the young man outside the store one day, trapping him inside an alleyway so they could talk.

“What do you know about the heist being planned at a church?” Aziraphale used his most commanding angelic voice.

The lad seemed surprised to hear such a tone come out of the likes of Aziraphale, but answered him anyway. “My old cellmate was going to be the lock man on that job, but he got beat up pretty badly the other day. Saw him in the hospital before he passed on to his reward. I’m taking over for him.”

“Ok, so you’re in on it,” said Aziraphale impatiently. “When is it happening? Is there someone named Crowley involved with it?”

“All I know is that it’s been headed by some red haired bloke who always wears dark glasses. He’s meeting with the gang Saturday night at the Dirty Donkey around midnight. That’s it.” Shadwell narrowed his eyes, giving him a suspicious look. “How do you know anything about it? Are you a witch? This was supposed to be on the sly.”

“Far from it, my dear fellow. I’m just trying to keep a friend out of trouble. Thank you for your time.” He politely gestured to Shadwell he could go before heading back to his bookshop, modifying Shadwell’s memory as he walked off so Crowley would not be tipped off to Aziraphale knowing.

Concerned, he headed over to Mayfair where Crowley resided. The demon seemed shocked to find Aziraphale at his door.

“Hello, Crowley. It’s been a while. I was just wondering how things are going and if you were available for lunch. I thought we could exchange information. I know what Michael’s been doing lately.”

“I can’t talk about now, Aziraphale. I really do have work to do. We’ll do lunch next week, I promise.” Then the door was shut in his face.

Aziraphale spent the next few days attempting to contact Crowley, but the demon did not pick up the phone. 

He couldn’t let Crowley do something dangerous that might end in his destruction, no matter what his personal views on his demonic friend owning holy water were.

Feeling defeated, he took a tartan-patterned thermos flask out of his kitchenette cabinet. The stopper would be good protection against possible leaks. First he purified the water he filled it with using a miracle. Hesitating a moment, he blessed it. Securing everything in place tightly, he dried it carefully just in case.

Torn, Aziraphale stared at the flask in his hand. He couldn’t let Crowley go through with that caper. Transporting to where he knew the meeting was, he stood on the sidewalk across from the Bentley to wait.

Finally, Crowley appeared. Aziraphale popped into the Bentley with a hand wave, tartan flask in his lap, smiling slightly nervously at the demon as he got in. 


	2. More than Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.”_ Those words are playing over and over in Crowley's head but it's not just a meal with Aziraphale he desires.

Crowley stared at the tartan flask in his hands. 

Despite his fears that Crowley would annihilate himself, Aziraphale had actually handed over holy water rather than see Crowley get into serious trouble. It was a turnaround for someone who tended to be a bit closed-minded when it came to Certain Views, especially views concerning Certain Demons.

_“Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.”_

The words rang through his head repeatedly, but he couldn’t think of the implications of_ that_. He really, really couldn’t.

Starting the Bentley, he pulled into the busy nightlife of Soho, carefully setting the flask in the back seat. He didn’t realize how unsettling it would be to have the stuff close to him, urgently wanting to get home where he could lock it away.

Ever so carefully, he carried his precious cargo upstairs to his flat where he securely stashed it in the safe in the office. He still felt a bit uneasy about what was hiding in the space behind the Mona Lisa, yet he was willing to learn to live with something deadly hidden in the wall if it meant peace of mind.

He lay in bed that night, the conversation with Aziraphale running through his turbulent mind. His body reacted quite strongly to it. Crowley wanted more than dinner.

The next night he was back meeting with his crew, trying not to think about it.

“The gig’s off,” he said flatly as he entered. “A friend tipped me off that the thing I’m after has been removed from the church.” Crowley pulled out a stack of cash. “What do I owe you? Six hundred each?”

They left with payment.

“We’re here if you need us,” Shadwell whispered in Crowley’s ear as he departed. “The Witchfinder Army.”

Crowley headed back to his flat.

_“Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz._”

Those sentences played still in his head, but this time Crowley paid attention to them. His angel might very well love him. The thought made him giddy. What would it be like to caress Aziraphale again? To introduce him to _more _carnal pleasures? What had happened back in 1941 had been an act not repeated. Aziraphale had been flustered by it, so chalked it up to the alcohol.

How long had it been? Millennia. Literally millennia he had loved the angel without ever expecting anything in return. He had accepted friendship because he couldn’t ask Aziraphale for more than he could give. It hurt spending time with him, small pieces of Crowley’s heart stolen every time he was near the angel. 

He had allowed his heart to break. He had pined years away. He had taken human lovers in an attempt to soothe the pain his soul felt. He had dreamed of touching Aziraphale, tried his best to keep lusty thoughts at bay, nor think about how much he wanted to nibble on his ear and trail kisses down his neck before…

_Stop thinking about it._

He wanted to hop in the Bentley right now, drive over to Aziraphale’s bookshop, tell him a picnic would be great. Or dining at the Ritz. Or anything he wanted because Crowley would be happy to oblige. But if that didn’t smack of desperation, nothing did. 

_Slow down there, lover boy._

Forget it. They weren’t dancing around this anymore. He had endured thousands of years of slow burn and it was time to solve this one way or another before his aching heart finally just broke. 

He looked at his watch. It wasn’t that late; he’d wandered into the bookshop at later times, usually to Aziraphale’s annoyance. Still, it was workable. As long as he played it cool, didn’t turn into some kind of a babbling idiot, he’d be fine. The angel would not have to know how anxious he was to have his question answered once and for all.

He miracled up a box of chocolates. Aziraphale was fond of sweets. With them in hand, he headed out to the Bentley, nervous as anything. 

_Please let him say ‘yes.’_

He could hear the classical music playing on Aziraphale’s old gramophone as he approached the bookshop’s door. Deciding this was not the best time to just barge in, he knocked for the first time in centuries.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale’s head poked out the door. “Crowley? It’s ten o’clock. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to let you know that the gig’s off. And to thank you.” He flashed the box of chocolates.

Bait taken. Aziraphale let him in. 

“You didn’t have to, Crowley.”

Suddenly the demon was swept up into the angel’s embrace. Tentatively he place a kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek to have it returned on his lips. Emboldened by this, Crowley caressed him.

They both wanted it, but they both were still so unsure. Aziraphale was afraid to get too close; Crowley that he would scare Aziraphale off. He let the angel lead. If he did, then things could go at Aziraphale’s pace. He could feel safe.

They ran their hands over each other, kissing, caressing, nibbling body parts as they slowly removed clothing.

Suddenly it went from foreplay to that couch in the backroom, Crowley lying on it naked with his knees pulled up, Aziraphale on top of him, entering ever-so-gently as he teased one nipple until the yearning made Crowley cry out.

Aziraphale took it slowly as he slid in and out of Crowley sending waves of pleasure through both of them. Crowley clung to him, fingers tracing down his back, occasionally catching as they involuntarily clenched with desire. Aziraphale sighed passionately, feelings shooting through him with every touch, every thrust. He bent low, peppering kisses all over Crowley’s collarbones before heading up to his mouth. Crowley probed Aziraphale’s mouth open, his tongue slithering in to explore as they made love so carefully. He groaned, his fingers flexing before he went still. Aziraphale’s thrusting slowed to a stop as well as they finished then settled on the couch for cuddling, both feeling safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chocolates are a nod to the deleted scene about Aziraphale opening his bookshop in 1800. I wished they could have filmed that. Apparently the medal he was supposed to receive in that scene is somewhere in the bookshop set.


	3. Views of an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the events so far from Aziraphale's point of view.

Aziraphale sat at the table in his backroom; head in his hands, feeling more mortified than he had in a while. Oh dear. He had gotten all caught up in the moment and said some things that could easily be misinterpreted. Crowley was so shocked over the holy water that maybe he didn’t notice.

Of course he noticed. Crowley noticed everything whether or not he appeared to. Hell made you properly paranoid. Having good observational skills certainly helped when they really _were_ out to get you.

Did it matter, though? It’s not like they didn’t spend an eternity on the couch embracing each other and more back in ’41. It wasn’t like there weren’t occasional, little hints over the following decades that spoke of something deeper burning beneath their friendship.

_“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”_

Crowley was all but ready to put their relationship ahead of their sides. His loyalties lay with Earth and Aziraphale. The angel’s loyalties still lay with Heaven. Upstairs wouldn’t be sympathetic if he loved him. He’d still have to oppose Crowley along with every other denizen of Hell in the future war. Best just to enjoy the friendship while he could. Because one day they’d be at each other’s throats whether they wanted to be or not.

His memory tossed up a tidbit… 

_He was standing in a Victorian conservatory, Crowley saying to him, “We’re basically on a side of our own here.” _

He’d better banish such thoughts. He had time to love Crowley discreetly. He didn’t have time to make anything more a reality. Then Crowley showed up the next evening and they ended up back on the couch like over twenty years ago. Now Aziraphale was confused, unsure what to do.

Maybe he should call. He walked over to the phone where he dithered between whether to dial Crowley’s number or just hang up the receiver. In the end, he put it down on its cradle, unable to talk to him just yet.

He was in and out the next two days, but that was no big deal. Crowley always left a note if he came around when Aziraphale wasn’t there. Aziraphale had gotten used to having a demon magically break into his place when absent.

He wasn’t expecting one to pop in the minute he put key into lock upon returning. 

“Crowley! You gave me a scare.”

“I believe I owe you a picnic.” There was a hamper beside the chair the demon had taken over. 

Aziraphale gave him his most radiant smile. “Shall we head over to the park?”

Crowley had other plans. Rain clouds sat just off England this morning. He had wished them over London, the storm traveling there over a matter of hours. Everything was in place. With another thought, the overcast sky opened up.

“So much for that,” sighed the demon. “Shall we head to the Ritz instead?”

“No! You brought all this wonderful food. Let’s just eat in the back.” Aziraphale was off with the picnic hamper before Crowley could answer. He got out everything, gushing that Crowley had brought all his favourites. “You really didn’t have to.”

“You gave me holy water, angel. I owe you a great deal.” Crowley poured the wine.

Rain pouring down outside, they enjoyed time together, telling stories, laughing, recounting fond memories. 

“…I have that stupid bird lectern from the church in my flat, you know,” Crowley was saying as Aziraphale looked at him with shining eyes. “That was such a grand adventure, I had to steal a souvenir.”

Aziraphale remembered _after_ the church. Swallowing hard, he crept over to the couch to lean on Crowley who was sprawled out on one side, cuddling up next to him, head on his arm. They rested on each other in the glow of tipsiness, enjoying the company.

“Do I go too fast for our friendship?” Crowley asked suddenly. “I can slow down.”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale replied. “I’m confused. We’re on opposite sides.”

“We’re on our side, angel.” Crowley shifted a tad so his arm was around Aziraphale, who didn’t object. 

“It’s all coming to an end soon. The world.”

“I know. I’m working on plans to stop it. If I can’t, maybe we can leave for other parts. It’s a big universe. We could start over.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley’s coat. 

“Eh.”

“Why are we?”

“Dunno.”

“What if I kissed you again?”

“What if you did?”

So Aziraphale leaned in, lips eagerly placed upon Crowley’s. He again relished the serpentine tongue sliding across his own. It excited and surprised him at the same time, every molecule of his body praying for more. He fumbled for that velvet coat, starting to unbutton it while Crowley trailed kisses and nips down his neck, his arousal evident as Aziraphale reached down to caress it. 

Clothing was removed as the passion became more heated until there was nothing left between them, but exploration. Their hands trailed over each other’s bodies, their mouths left little kisses here and there. Crowley’s teeth left little red marks, but Aziraphale was too timid yet to actually bite. Instead he scratched gently enjoying Crowley’s soft moans as he watched his skin redden before feeling a little guilty about it.

They sat on that ancient couch warming up until Aziraphale finally settled down comfortably on Crowley’s lap, linking them together physically. Tentatively, he rocked his hips. Crowley carefully thrust upwards in return, smiling as he put his hands on Aziraphale’s hips to guide him, all softness.

Crowley, who looked so wonderful right now, his love and lust evident, was deep inside him. Aziraphale committed that to memory along with the feel of Crowley as his hands wandered over his bare skin and the touch of Crowley’s hands on him in return. Climax approaching for both; he buried his head in Crowley’s hair while the demon held him possessively. 

_The future can bloody wait_, Aziraphale thought. He knew exactly what he wanted here and now. 


	4. A Side of Our Own (A Fluffy Little Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel and a demon engage in pillow talk about their future the day after the word doesn't end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done. I've been working on these since June and now they're all done. 😭 I might add chapters on a few to flesh them out more. Some seem incomplete but I didn't have ideas to run with at the time. My muse might visit me now that I've not looked at them in a while. Art's never finished, just abandoned. Maybe the same is true for writing.

It was the very first day of the rest of their lives. They had endured what Heaven and Hell had to throw at them after the failed Apocalypse and followed it up with a celebratory lunch at the Ritz. They had followed _that_ up with other celebrations back at Crowley’s flat where they could take advantage of his oversized bed with its grey satin sheets.

A strain had been lifted from their relationship with their severings from their respective sides. There was no more paranoia, wondering if someone saw them meaning punishment was imminent. No more having to sneak around. They both realized what a relief that was when they openly enjoyed their lunch then took a cab back here for more intimate activities after Crowley spent some time running his hands over the exterior of the restored Bentley.

Crowley lay stroking Aziraphale’s blond curls as the angel rested his head on his chest, both utterly contented. The demon wondered if they could just stay like this forever.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Aziraphale, reaching up to kiss along Crowley’s jawline.

“For what?” asked the demon, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Not believing you or being there when you needed me to be.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But…”

Crowley put a finger on the angel’s lips. “Shhh. We’re fine.” He sat up against the black headboard, encouraging Aziraphale to sit up with him. “Come here, you. Apparently I need to find ways to keep you busy so you don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

Cupping Aziraphale’s chin in his hand, Crowley started the snogging all over again. His hands wandered all over the angel, caressing his back, tracing over the curve of his stomach, scratching along the fullness of his arse. He had been furious when he heard about Gabriel’s “lose the gut” comment. His angel was perfect.

Aziraphale found himself being laid down on the bed again as Crowley silently asked permission to make love to him for the second time this afternoon. He wrapped his legs around his demon, nibbling on an earlobe as Crowley found his rhythm. Sky blue eyes closed as he rode the passion brought on by the sexual contact. They were both giddy – still high on adrenaline from the past couple of days’ experiences. It fueled their love making.

But it wasn’t a frenzied type of sex. It was passionate, romantic and deliberate. They thoroughly explored each other’s bodies like never before. Gone was the feeling that someone could be looking over their shoulder at any moment. The feeling that came with knowing fraternizing on any level, especially one this intimate and forbidden, could mean their destructions, dissipated the moment they met up in the lobby after the trials. Heaven and Hell would pretend they didn’t exist for a while. They had some breathing room; they were damn well going to use it.

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley bit his collarbone then kissed the mark away just as suddenly as he made it. 

“You are mine,” whispered Crowley in his ear as they came together. “Heaven can go screw itself.”

His protectiveness flattered Aziraphale. A guardian demon. Who ever heard of one of those? Nobody because there was only one in the world and that demon was his. He wrapped himself tighter around Crowley, if that was possible.

Crowley laughed. “Let go a moment so we both can get comfortable.”

“So what do we do when they decide not to leave us alone?” asked Aziraphale as he settled down again on Crowley’s chest. He could feel him running his long fingers through his hair.

“I’m still game to go to Alpha Centauri when we have to flee here. It’ll happen. No world lasts forever, but we can spend eternity planet-hopping. It’ll be an adventure.”

“It certainly will, my dear.”

“Don’t worry about it now. We have time.”

“Shall I worry about you wearing me out with all this attention instead?” laughed Aziraphale. “I might need to take up sleeping.”

“I wouldn’t complain about that,” replied Crowley. “It would be nice to have someone to cuddle with at night.”

“Soft demon,” teased Aziraphale.

“Only for you.” 

Aziraphale sobered suddenly, as if something came unbidden into his mind. Crowley caressed him, kissing the top of his head. 

“What do we do now? We don’t have jobs anymore. No more wiling and thwarting.”

“We create our own purpose. You have your bookshop, so you have started to form it already, whether you realize it or not. Build on that and your other interests.” Crowley trailed fingers over Aziraphale’s back. “The building next to your bookshop is for sale. It popped into my head today as I was being escorted out of Heaven that maybe I should buy it. Start my own business. Maybe a wine shop or something.”

“I want a cottage by the sea. I want to spend weekends there. I want to see the world without having it be a business trip,” Aziraphale replied. He propped himself up so he could look at Crowley. “I could use someone to spend weekends and travel with. Cottages have gardens and I know nothing about plants.”

“Are you tempting me, angel?”

“Maybe I see someone I love and want to spend forever with.” He blushed.

It was Crowley’s turn to sit up. Serpentine eyes looked upon Aziraphale with slight surprise. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Aziraphale pulled a ring box out of nowhere. “I believe I am.” Blushing even redder, he presented it to Crowley. “I’d be honoured if you wore my ring and considered yourself my husband.”

Crowley peered at the gold ring adorned with a black diamond. “Then let’s do this right.” An identical ring with a white diamond for Aziraphale sat in his palm.

Smiling, they slid the rings on each other’s fingers right there in bed while basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Husbands. Maybe the Almighty had this in mind all along as well. She did work in mysterious ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we so know that Crowley’s probably too lazy to actually run a business. 😄
> 
> Also, in my mind it has to be Aziraphale who proposes. He’s the one who’s had all the doubts over the years. He needs to be the one to express he’s ready to commit to the relationship fully. Crowley already has.


	5. Deleted Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unbeta-ed rough draft of Crowley making plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to include this in the story itself after coming across the deleted scene where Crowley meets with the owner of a shop who helps him put together his crew. It just didn't fit after seeing that and contained a lot of unnecessary stuff, anyway. But my friend convinced me to publish the rough draft of it. Here it is in all its unfinished glory. I think I got all the spelling and grammatical errors corrected, but that's it. It hasn't been tweaked at all.
> 
> My other offering this weekend is [Subterfuge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447484/chapters/51108832) where I cause Aziraphale and Crowley a lot of trauma, but they'll get their happy ending. They always do. I like whump with a positive outcome.

Crowley was busy. Very busy. He had taken the risky move of showing up in the adult bookstore next to Aziraphale’s bookshop to recruit skilled “tradesmen” for his heist idea. He was well aware Green, the store’s owner, was an acquaintance of Aziraphale’s but he figured the man would mind his own business. Crowley did make a couple of purchases on his visits here just as a sign of goodwill. Not that he totally understood the human need for adult material or why it was the men of species who seemed more interested in it.

He tossed it all on bar tables later for others to find. It could be chalked up to inspiring Lust if he really wanted to play the game that way.

He had three people interested – Spike, the muscles, Sally, who would be on the ropes, and Narker, a locksman, who had yet to show his face. He was told Narker would be at the meeting at the Dirty Donkey in a couple of nights.

Right now, Crowley was sitting in his lounge with a map of London spread out on the coffee table looking for a likely church to rob, having narrowed his choices down to three. He was comparing locations right now, seeing which of the three was most off the beaten path and least likely to attract any attention in the middle of the night.

His train of thought was going towards driving by each church tonight after midnight to check vehicle and pedestrian traffic patterns when it was derailed by the ringing of the telephone. Irritated, he picked it up.

“What?” he snapped, knowing exactly who was calling him and wondering why he was contacting him when it was rare he used the phone.

“Hello, Crowley. It’s Aziraphale. I was wondering if you were free to do lunch today. It’s been quite a while.”

“No. Sorry. Very busy. I have assignments and all kinds of stuff. Maybe next week, ok? I’ll speak to you later. Gotta go.” 

He hung up the phone, hoping the angel would take the hint and refrain from calling back until this heist was done. He didn’t need the distraction.

Wait a moment… What if Aziraphale knew? What if word had gotten back to him somehow? Crowley sighed and rubbed his eyes then put the thought out of his head.

“He’s too naïve to suss it out,” he convinced himself. “If he couldn’t figure out that Nazi spy chick wasn’t really British Intelligence, he sure as heaven isn’t going to piece together what I’m up to. He’ll think I’m just doing some tempting.”

He went back to his planning, surveying the areas on the map around the circled churches, seeing if it would tell him anything more before he headed out. In the end, he crossed off one church for being too close to a pub. He wasn’t going to take a chance that people leaving that establishment might walk by the church, no matter how drunk they might be if they happened to witness something.

The other two were in quiet neighbourhoods. Perfect for taking holy water from.

He hoped they didn’t have guards or anything. The last he had heard anything about holy water was back in the Middle Ages when the parish priests locked it up each night to keep witches from taking it for their malevolent ceremonies. 

Crowley normally didn’t take any notice of churches unlike some demons. For some it was quite the bragging rights to be able to say they destroyed a church, desecrated or otherwise vandalized it. It was an even higher honour if you could show off the blisters on your feet from walking on consecrated ground. It got you brownie points if you were into such things. Crowley was much more interested in doing the bare minimum to keep Hell off his back so he could do what he wanted with his time. 

Talking about keeping Hell off his back, he decided he’d better make some token effort since it had been a while. 

He’d been poring over his notes for a few hours now. The nightly commute home was in progress. Perfect. He headed out on to his balcony where he could just see a major artery in the distance. With a wave of his hand, the electricity over several blocks went out along that road, taking down the traffic signals with it. 

“That should do it,” he muttered as he watched traffic slowly grind to a halt. The people whose homes were affected were an added bonus. 

So much for getting dinner, though. He just trapped himself in his own flat for the time being. Shrugging it off, he went to his always well-stocked fridge for something to tide him over while he waited and sat down with fruit, cheese and some wine, looking at the beautiful mess of brake lights in the background off his balcony.

A few days later, having scouted out churches and chosen the one to rob, he prepared to meet with his crew that night. Packing up his maps, he was surprised to hear a knock on his door. Putting on his sunglasses, he answered it.

“Hello, Crowley,” said a nervous Aziraphale, who was standing in the hallway. “It’s been a while. I was just wondering how things are going and if you were available for lunch. I thought we could exchange information. I know what Michael’s been doing lately.”

“I can’t talk about now, Aziraphale. I really do have work to do. We’ll do lunch next week, I promise.” 

He shut the door, sighing as he did so. The angel was starting to sniff things out, wasn’t he? It was a good thing this was happening soon because now Crowley was getting paranoid. He didn’t need Aziraphale interfering. 

Just a bit longer then this would all be over with. He’d have holy water stashed in the safe behind his sketch of the Mona Lisa and Aziraphale would not be the wiser.


End file.
